Loving the Nurse by Piper Sullivan

Gus

At five minutes to six o’clock, I stood on Antonio’s doorstep and rang the door bell, the green dress I had on earlier was laying on my bed in favor of a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I was sure Antonio was just messing with me and had no designs to take me to dinner or to bed, but just to be safe I decided to show up without the dress.

The front door opened and Antonio stood there in the same black t-shirt and gray jeans he had on earlier, a little bit of flour stained the t-shirt and his feet were bare. He shoved one hand in his pocket and smiled as he looked me up and down.

“I knew you would change.”

I shrugged. “Then you’re not disappointed.”

“The hell I’m not. I was looking forward to peeking down your cleavage whenever I could. Now I’ll settle for staring at that pink lace bra under your t-shirt.”

Of course he noticed. It was foolish to think he wouldn’t. I rolled my eyes to try and stop the smile that threatened at his words. “Are you gonna invite me in, or are we cooking outside?” Cooking outdoors might have been better than being squeezed into a tight space with this larger than life man.

Antonio stepped back, a small step that forced me to brush against him as I entered his home. “Welcome to Casa Ricci.”

His words came from right beside my ear, and I closed my eyes to ward off the temptation to lean into him. I didn’t open them until his warmth faded and there was distance between us. Antonio’s place was unexpected. There was plush carpeting and comfortable furniture in the living room, a giant plastic bin full of toys and a flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Well, I guess the presence of the toys was not really surprising.

“I’m surprised at how homey your place is.”

His laugh was loud and booming, but most of all good-natured. “Were you expecting calendars with naked women? A pool table in the living room and a keg in the corner?”

“No.” I rolled my eyes and took my time as I looked at all the photos on the wall of him and Rosie, him and his brothers and sister, and of course Cal. It was all family. “I expected leather furniture, hard wood floors and a TV so large it could be viewed from space.” I shook my head and motioned around the room. “There’s more Rosie here than you, at least what I know of you anyway.” Which was, admittedly, not much, so what would I know?

Antonio folded his arms, either to intimidate me or arouse me, I didn’t know so I diverted my gaze from his tattooed biceps back to the family photos. “Yeah? And what is it you think you know about me Augusta?” There was a challenge in is deep brown eyes and it made me curious what he thought I would say.

I held up a hand, speaking directly to Antonio without looking at him, and ticked off what I knew with a finger. “Pro chef who was poised to become the next big thing. Loving father. Good teacher. Confirmed bachelor. Oh, and cocky as hell.”

Antonio stared at me oddly, and I dropped my hand as the odd look turned to surprise.

“Did I miss something? A hidden talent I should know about?” I didn’t listen to gossip in town unless it was unavoidable, and even then I didn’t assume that it was all facts. I just listened.

“I have many hidden talents, and you’ll know about them. Soon.” The man just couldn’t help himself, his flirt button was always on. I didn’t think he had an off button.

“Oh boy.”

He shrugged. “Most people bring up my ex-wife.”

“Ex-wife? I wasn’t aware you were ever married.”

Antonio’s tension faded and his shoulders relaxed. “I was. Now, I’m not.”

“Why do people bring her up?”

“You really don’t know?”

I shook my head. “My interest in you outside the hospital is your videos, Antonio.”

And just like that, his expression was back to sexy. “Ready for lesson number one?”

I nodded eagerly, because if we were talking food, we weren’t flirting. And if we weren’t flirting, then maybe I could pretend he didn’t smell like heaven and sex all rolled into one. I could pretend being this close to him didn’t completely overwhelm my senses.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good.” He paused for a long minute, raked a hand through his hair, and turned to grab a few things from a cabinet behind him. “You seem so capable at all times, Augusta. Why are you just learning to cook now?”

I tried to shrug off the question, but before I knew it, real details flew from my mouth. “As a kid I took care of myself most of the time and my culinary education was focused on quick and easy, or just plain convenient. Bologna sandwiches. Grilled cheese. Canned ravioli and spaghetti. Frozen dinners. You know, the fancy stuff.”

His lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “I’m familiar with them.”

“Yeah well, now I’m trying to eat healthier, and I’m told that starts with whole foods, which means I need to know what to do with ’em.” I shook my head and mentally checked myself for sharing so much with Antonio. “What’s lesson number one?”

“Salad dressing.” He laughed at the pout I sent him. “You eat salad all the time,” he growled at me. “You women and your diets, I’ll never understand it.”

“Because you’re fit and you’ve probably always been in excellent shape.” Men never understood, and I stopped explaining years ago.

“Excellent shape, huh?” His dark brows rose in surprise, lips twisted into an amused grin.

“Back to the salad dressing, Romeo.”

His deep chuckle echoed in the quiet kitchen. “The reason you don’t like salad is because you can’t eat enough store bought dressing without overloading on calories. I’m going to blow your mind with this basic vinaigrette.”

I ignored the zing of pleasure that tore through me and lifted my chin high in the air. “Challenge accepted.”

“Good. Now, your basic vinaigrette only requires two things, oil and acid, but if you want you can reduce or eliminate the oil altogether.” While he spoke, Antonio’s hands moved gracefully like a pianist, adding a pinch of this and a dash of that to the small glass bowl. “You could also use mustard or miso paste in place of the oil for a thick and flavorful vinaigrette that won’t break the calorie bank.” He flashed a smile while he whisked like crazy, until the mixture was thick and frothy. “Now it’s your turn.”

I looked at the ingredients he set out into three categories, oil, acid and seasoning, and grabbed what I needed. “What about you, why did you become a chef?”

“Feeding five kids plus Dad was a big task, and we used to take turns doing it with a range of outcomes, from burnt, to call the fire department. My food was always the best, so Cenzo redid the chore list so that my only responsibility was cooking. Well, and grocery shopping, except during football season.”

I let out a grunt while I whisked. “Of course you played football. Quarterback?”

“Nah, that was Cal. I played wide receiver.” Antonio let out another loud laugh at the blank look on my face. “Not a football fan?”

“Nope. How’d I do?”

He examined the bowl first and then stuck a finger in to scoop some up, and sweet lord the way he licked his finger sent my poor libido into overdrive. “Delicious.”

“Cool. I’m sure I can remember oil, acid and seasonings.”

“If you forget, I’m just a phone call away.” He smiled as if he knew I wanted to say something smart ass back to him and continued on. “Next is the ultimate salad dressing. Ranch.” He gave me a recipe and tips to make my second favorite dressing at home. “A lot healthier than the store bought stuff, just from the lack of added preservatives alone. Much cheaper too.”

I didn’t know how he knew to avoid all the trigger words, like calorie friendly and less sugar, but it was a relief. Maybe I’ll actually lose those final fifteen from nursing school without all the perceived judgement from outside sources. “You’re helping me to understand a ton Antonio, I might have to start liking you.”

He shook his head and leaned across the counter that separated us. “You already like me, Augusta. You just don’t want to.”

I could have denied it, but Antonio Ricci was more than just a pretty face, in fact he was pretty damn astute, so I shrugged. “True. But you’re trouble, and I’m not in the market for trouble right now. It’s nothing personal,” I added, even though you couldn’t really say something like that to someone without it being personal.

“Trouble?” His tone was surprised, as if no one had ever told him he was the walking talking definition of the word.

I nodded and whipped up a tahini and ginger dressing with a proud smile as I held it out to him. “Yeah, the kind of trouble that usually ends with too much chocolate ice cream and red wine. Heartbreak.”

“I don’t break hearts,” he insisted with a sincerity that was as funny as it was sad.

“Of course you do, even if you don’t mean to.” That was the problem with men like Antonio, they were nice guys, likable men who were charming and sexy and even sweet at times, so much so that you forgot that you’re not supposed to fall for them. Then you do, and it’s too late to turn back. “You clearly don’t trust women, and I’m not in the market for a casual fling.”

“What’s wrong with having a casual fling?”

“Nothing at all. I’ve had a few in my life, enough to know that I can’t do casual. I can’t just have sex with someone when it doesn’t mean anything.” I tried, three times to be exact, and each time I found myself crying into a bucket of ice cream and wetting my throat with copious amounts of wine.

Antonio rounded the counter between us and took the bowl from my hands before he gripped my shoulders and turned me so we faced each other. His brown eyes were dark and intense. “There’s no such thing as meaningless sex. The meaning is pleasure, Augusta. Yours. Mine. Our collective pleasure. That’s the point. At least for me, it is.”

I let out a shaky breath at his words and the hunger in his voice, and I had to take a step back to get a moment of relief. “I can’t Antonio.”

“Not yet, but you will.” It was an ominous prediction that felt more like a promise.

And what was worse? I had a feeling he was right.